


Goodbyes Are For Suckers

by Blush (blushingcos)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - No Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, DICE members, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Love Confessions, M/M, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi-centric, Organized Crime, Post-High School, Underage Drinking, college student shuichi saihara, dice - Freeform, drug dealer kokichi ouma, kokichi ouma is bad at feelings, shuichi saihara has anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushingcos/pseuds/Blush
Summary: It had been two months since graduation from Hope’s Peak. Two months since Shuichi had seen Kokichi’s smiling face under a black graduation cap that was definitely three sizes too big. Two months since he’d slipped a carefully written and rewritten and re-rewritten note into the pocket of his gown, politely asking the purple-haired boy to meet him behind the school after the ceremony.Two months since Shuichi stood and then sat and then laid under the tree, waiting for a boy that would never show up.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	1. Prologue

Kokichi Ouma was a world-class criminal. 

Okay, maybe not that. But he had definitely stolen things before.

Kokichi Ouma was a murderer.

No, not that either. He’d probably never even killed a bug- on purpose, at least. (Himself? That was debatable. He had a lot of knicks and bruises that he whipped up illogical stories about when someone bothered to ask.)

Kokichi Ouma was a mystery. 

Yes, that was true. Despite it, the word mystery seemed too bland for someone like him. It suggested that there was a definite answer to be found, a case that needed to be solved. If he had to guess, Shuichi thought that probably even Ouma himself didn’t know the answers. There wasn’t a case, and there wasn’t a culprit.

There was only him. 

The boy that sometimes walked home with Shuichi after school, grabbing his hand and swinging their arms back and forth to a melody that only he could hear. It moved through the air, silent and beautiful until the notes came to an end and the intimacy with them. 

He’d let go and run away or slip behind a corner before Shuichi could stop him. 

Either way, he was gone without a goodbye. 

It had been two months since graduation from Hope’s Peak. Two months since Shuichi had seen Kokichi’s smiling face under a black graduation cap that was definitely three sizes too big. Two months since he’d slipped a carefully written and rewritten and re-rewritten note into the pocket of his gown, politely asking the purple-haired boy to meet him behind the school after the ceremony. 

Under the tree, specifically. The one with the pink flowers that fell to blanket the grass during fall and sprouted back across the branches without fail every spring. He knew the one, right? They used to eat lunch under it together. He had to know. 

He  _ had _ to.

It had been two months since Shuichi stood and then sat and then laid under the tree, waiting for a boy that would never show up. 

Their recent closeness had been too good to be true, anyway. That’s what Shuichi told himself as he walked home under the light sprinkle of rain, his graduation cap protecting his neatly combed hair from the elements. 

Kokichi Ouma was a liar. 

That was true no matter what angle you chose to look at it. He was a liar if he lied, and he was a liar if he didn’t. He said he was a liar, so not lying would make that statement false, and then he would really be lying, wouldn’t he?

Saihara didn’t fall asleep that night. 

Kokichi Ouma didn’t either, but no one would ever know that. 

If you asked him about it, he’d probably say that he was up preparing some evil scheme and that _ “time was of the essence!”  _ It wasn’t too far from the truth, after all. DICE had pulled some easy pranks during the graduation ceremony that mostly involved messing with the students graduating with honors (silly string in their diplomas, tacks on their seats, changing their names in the lineup into puns that made everyone and their mother uncomfortable), and now that that was over they needed something to occupy themselves with. If he left them too long without an order, they got bored, and when DICE got bored, pretty things didn’t happen. 

Only he would know that their latest scheme was scribbled on a napkin five minutes before their next meeting and not ornately crafted under a desk lamp under the blanket of night, Kokichi tapping his pen against his chin in thought until he was struck with genius. No, the only thing the nighttime saw was silent tears. 

Shuichi waited. Even when it started raining, he waited.

Kokichi Ouma didn’t deserve it. 

The stupid future detective with his stupid eyes and stupid smiles and stupid lips. His stupid persistence and his stupid understanding words and his stupid, stupid, stupid love.

Kokichi Ouma didn’t deserve it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Employees Only

Shuichi watched his tipsy, pink-haired friend throw down another shot. 

The gaggle of others gathered around her yelled out numbers (what were they at now? thirteen?) as she slowly inched closer to her age. She gagged on the next one, making her cheeks turn bright red.

“I thought you didn’t have a gag reflex?” Kaito mused with a chuckle, crossing his arms against his chest. He watched the scene unfold before him with something between curiosity and worry in his eyes. 

“I-I don’t!” She cried, waving her hands frantically in front of her after setting down the now empty shot glass. “If you want me to p-prove it to you-”

“Gross, no thanks.” Kaito dismissed her with a shake of his head before walking over to Shuichi. He rested his arms on the bar and sighed. “She’s gonna have a rough morning tomorrow.”

Shuichi pressed a slim finger against his glass of water, the cold droplets now transferring to his skin and trickling down his hand. It was a nice contrast to the sweaty heat of the club. “I feel like we should step in.”

“Nah, man.” Kaito slung his arm around Shuichi, making the latter flinch. “Just let her have her fun. It’s a birthday tradition, right?”

Shuichi frowned. “Not for anyone else in the world.”

“Yeah well, Miu is Miu after all.” He squeezed Shuichi’s shoulder reassuringly before pulling away. “I’m sorry I dragged you to this by the way. Just didn’t want to be alone, with Maki not coming and all.”

“It’s okay, it’s not that bad.” Shuichi shrugged, knowing fully well that it really _was that bad_. 

Miu had gotten most of them fake IDs from someone she knew, and he cringed at the thought of the horribly made piece of plastic in his jacket pocket. She’d used his yearbook picture from senior year, despite the fact that his hair barely looked like that anymore. He was apparently a 22-year old organ donor with green eyes, according to the driver’s license. The bouncer hadn’t given it a second glance even though Shuichi was shaking so hard he thought he might pass out. 

Kiibo wasn’t so lucky- he’d had to argue with the worker for a little over ten minutes before he was allowed in. Miu’s intensive flirting didn’t work, and after a while, the bouncer told her if she made another suggestive comment she was getting kicked out, too. Her face turned beet red and her bottom lip trembled at the treatment. 

It wasn’t a pretty sight. 

Kaito waved for the bartender, making Shuichi’s stomach sink. “Two Guinness, please!”

Shuichi swallowed harshly. “Kaito, you know I don’t drink. I have to drive-”

“You can just stay at my place!” He nudged the smaller boy with his elbow, probably harder than intended. The guy worked out every day of the week, after all. “It’s just a five-minute walk, and we can pick up your car in the morning.”

“How’s Maki gonna feel about that?” Shuichi sighed, resigning himself to a night of drinking beer that tasted like piss if only to get his mind off the less than ideal situation at hand.

Two drinks were placed in front of them, both brown and strong-smelling. He couldn’t find it in himself to even pretend to be pleased. 

“You know she won’t mind. You’ve slept on the couch before, how is this any different?” Kaito took a long swig of his drink, sighing loudly after swallowing as if it was somehow appealing to his taste buds. 

(Shuichi thought the whole thing about ‘acquired taste’ was bullshit. You just learn to ignore it, which is _not nearly_ the same thing.)

Shuichi shrugged. “We’ll both smell gross.”

His friend fell into a fit of laughter, nearly knocking over their drinks in the process. He wiped the tears that had formed in his eyes with the back of his hand. “You’re funny, Shu.”

Shuichi’s comment about how he, most definitely, was not funny was interrupted by a girl emerging from the back room. A flash of white caught his eye and he shifted his attention to her, his mouth hung open in preparation for a sentence that would never come. The white came from an eerily familiar outfit, an outfit that Shuichi couldn’t forget even if he tried. (And _shit_ has he tried.) 

The DICE uniform. 

The straight jacket-like shirt hung off her shoulders, multicolored buttons decorating the front and unused restraints dangling at her sides. A checkered scarf was tied loosely around her neck (looser than Kokichi wore it, Shuichi couldn’t help but think). Light blue hair fell a little past her shoulder in a messy lob, sparkling under the bright lights of the bar. The pieces on either side of her face were significantly longer than the rest, the ends of them tied with little rubber bands that Shuichi couldn’t help but think were meant for five year old’s instead. 

She seemed to notice Miu and the other tipsy party goers around her, smiling wickedly before taking a running start and jumping onto the bar. The whole structure rattled under the intrusion, and Shuichi barely noticed as Kaito’s drink spilled over the both of them. Only as the cold liquid seeped into his pants did he drag his gaze away from the girl who’d crouched down in front of Miu, speaking in hushed whispers to her and her friends. 

“-fucking think she is!” Kaito grumbled, picking the glass upright and wiping up the excess liquid off the counter with a towel the bartender had given him. He continued mumbling under his breath about manners as he handed the now damp towel to Shuichi. 

The smaller boy took it gingerly and used it to clean off his pants as best he could. He watched the girl out of the corner of his eye as she crouched on the bar, knee-high black combat boots with neon purple laces adorning her feet. After a few more hushed whispers she smiled and dug her hand into the pocket of her shirt, pulling out a small bag that she handed to Miu before he could catch a glimpse of what was in it. His pink-haired friend shuffled through her purse and pulled out some cash.

The girl frowned and leaned forward to flick the piece of hair that fell in front of Miu’s face. She said something Shuichi couldn’t make out, but it seemed to effectively piss everyone off.

With a huff, Miu pulled out more cash. 

The girl stuffed it into her pocket and jumped backward off the counter, landing with a harsh thud on the wood flooring of the bar. Shuichi’s drink shook ominously, but Kaito grabbed it before anything more could spill. “Fucking hell,” he grumbled. 

Shuichi slipped out of his seat, ignoring his friend’s questioning as he followed the girl's retreat into the back room. He barely noticed the large “EMPLOYEES ONLY” sign as he slipped behind her before it shut. He grabbed onto her sleeve gently to catch her attention.

The girl’s head immediately whipped around, fire burning in her eyes. Her gaze shifted to his grip on her sleeve. “The fuck do you want?” 

He wasn’t exactly expecting a warm welcome from DICE, but he couldn’t help but flinch at the tone. 

She ripped her arm away, holding it close to her chest as if he’d somehow injured her. “Well, twink?”

He tried not to stutter, but the attempt rendered mostly null (along with his attempts to stop the embarrassment growing in his cheeks.) “Your outfit. You’re in DICE, right?”

He had to give it to her, her expression barely flickered at the name. “What’s that?” She tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy, her originally threatening demeanor now soft and innocent.

The change gave him whiplash.

“Please. I’m friends with Ko-”

She slapped her hand over his mouth. “Are you _insane_?” She hissed.

He didn’t respond. Mostly because he had a hand over his mouth.

She looked frantically around where they were, a sort of storage room for extra alcohol that also seemed to double as a break room. Another worker (was _she_ a worker?) sat in the corner playing a game on their phone with headphones in, seemingly zoned out from the world.

She removed her hand from his mouth and wiped it on her pants with a disgusted expression. “He’s not here, and even if he was, I wouldn’t bring you to him.”

“What, why?” Shuichi asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes and tucked one of the face-framing pieces of hair behind her ear. “I said two things, dummy. Which do you want the _why_ for.”

He bit his lip. “Uh, can I have both?”

“No.”

He sighed. “The second one, I guess?”

She glanced at the worker in the corner again, presumably to make sure they were still in their own little world. Seemingly satisfied with their unchanged position, she turned back to him with a huff. “Because I don’t trust you. You followed me into the back room. You’re creepy.” She crossed her arms and shrugged. “There. I even gave you three answers to your question. It’s your lucky day or whatever.” Seemingly unable to keep still, she uncrossed her arms and started messing with her hair, wrapping one of the longer strands around her pointer finger until it uncurled itself and fell back into place. “Now get out,” she said, the words lacking their previous malice.

Shuichi fiddled with the buttons on the edge of his jacket. The lump in his throat was getting stronger. He was so close, if he could just reach out and grab this tiny clue the world had given him, he’d have his best friend back.

Right?

“Please. Please just tell him-”

Kaito stumbled through the door. 

“Uh, what’s going on dude?” He looked around the room with his purple eyes, eventually settling on the blue-haired girl. His jaw twitched in annoyance. “You know, you really owe me for that beer-”

She held up a hand to silence him, not dissimilar from Maki. It worked the same- as if innately tapping into his reflexes- and shut him up immediately. “I swear to _god_ if you finish that sentence you’re getting strangled and not even your twink ass friend over here can save you.”

“ _Twink_?” Kaito repeated, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Just go back to the bar, I’ll be right there,” Shuichi pleaded.

“Nah dude, I’m not leaving you alone with this chick.” 

Shuichi pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. He took a step closer to the girl who glared at him with grey eyes, two little hearts drawn in what looked like eyeliner underneath them. Now that he focused on it under the less confusing lighting of the break room, her makeup was rather elaborate. She wore multi-colored eyeshadow with light blue brows to match her hair, her matching blue lips pursing angrily the longer he focused on her face. 

“Please, tell him Shuichi asked for him. I’ll be here at the same time tomorrow night if he wants to talk.”

“Doubtful,” she responded dryly, waving the boys out with a flick of her hand.

Kaito tugged him out by his arm and he snuck one last glance at her before the employee door shut behind them. Her expression was curious now, lacking the previous menace. 

She’d tell Kokichi. He was sure of it.

\---

The pair walked back to Kaito’s house around 2 AM.

There was a slight breeze, and Shuichi shivered as it brushed against his still-damp pants. He’d have to borrow some clothes to sleep in. 

After a quick goodbye to the girl on the other end of the line, Kaito clicked off his phone and slid it into his back pocket. “Maki said it’s alright. She’s still up, of course.”

Shuichi nodded. 

Back in High School, he thought he was the only one who’d stay up till the sunrise filtered in through his windows, like some kind of crazy lunatic whose Circadian rhythm was off-kilter. But then, he’d met Maki… and then Kokichi, and he realized that compared to others, he was perfectly sane when it came to sleeping schedules. 

The thought didn’t comfort him as much as he thought it would. 

“So, dude.” Kaito nudged him, trying his best to match his long steps to those of his shorter friend. “Are you gonna tell me why you went after that chick or what?”

Shuichi knew this would come eventually, he just hoped that slightly tipsy Kaito had really _really_ bad memory and would forget about it altogether. If he was being honest, a malicious part of him had considered egging his friend on back at the bar when it came to his alcohol intake, if only to get him drunk enough to forget completely. 

(He didn’t do that, of course.) 

“She just looked like someone I know,” Shuichi muttered with a shrug. “That’s all.”

Kaito shook his head. “Nah, bro. You’re way too meek to go after someone like that.” After a few seconds of silence, he scoffed, as if the meaning of Shuichi’s words had finally registered. “Just cause you know them? _Bullshit_.”

Shuichi frowned, staring at the cracks in the sidewalk as he walked. As much as he wanted to put off this conversation, he’d rather it be done before they got back to Kaito’s house. If he waited too long, Maki would be involved. And if Maki was involved, all hell would break loose. 

Kaito at least gave him the benefit of the doubt. Most of the time. 

“Okay fine,” Shuichi muttered. He picked at the wet pocket of his pants absentmindedly, desperate to find something to occupy his fingers. “You remember Kokichi’s organization? DICE?”

Kaito grunted in agreement as well as disapproval. 

“She was wearing their uniform.”

Kaito stopped walking and it took Shuichi a few steps to realize his friend wasn’t in pace with him anymore. He traced back, trying not to meet Kaito’s eyes as he did so. 

“You still care that much, huh?” Kaito said, his voice softer than usual. (It might’ve just been because of the dark, or the fact that the empty city begged for silence, but Shuichi liked to think it was because he cared.)

“Yeah, I do.”

Kaito knew Shuichi’s past with their old classmate pretty well. He’d held his blue-haired friend and awkwardly stroked his hair when he broke down at their graduation party. He’d listened to him recount old memories about the purple-haired menace in a tipsy daze without any stinging remarks (as hard as it was). He’d checked up on him for days after graduation, texting positive reminders in the morning to take his meds and eat a good breakfast, asking him out for lunch with him and their other classmates to get his mind off of it. 

He thought he’d done a pretty good job of getting the kid to move on, if he did say so himself. 

So the fact that Shuichi was causing a scene in a bar because of some uniform? Well, that was disappointing to say the least. 

“I’m not gonna let you go tomorrow, Shu.” Kaito put his hands on his friend's shoulders, squeezing in a way he imagined to be reassuring. “He’s nothing but trouble. He hurt you.”

“I-” Shuichi struggled to find words, monotonous syllables drifting through his head in a daze. The only thing keeping him from having an anxiety attack in the middle of the sidewalk was the few beers in his system. They kept his thoughts just foggy enough to stop them from tangling with each other.

Just foggy enough to stop them from forming an impenetrable ball that so often decided to get caught in his throat and stop his breathing. 

It’s not like Kaito hadn’t seen one of his attacks before- in fact, he’d probably seen the most out of anyone (besides his uncle, though Shuichi didn’t like to count his younger selves inability to handle his parent’s absence as anxiety attacks. Probably any child would have acted the same. Probably.) 

Still, he was an adult, right? He should be able to handle a little confrontation without making a fuss about it. He wasn’t supposed to be a burden to his friends, the kind of person that was needy and desperate and had anxiety attacks in the street at 2 AM. So, he took a deep breath and nodded. 

(A white lie was easier than the alternative, and Kaito would never have to know. It’s not like Kokichi would show up anyways. 

Still, Shuichi knew if he didn’t go, it would be waiting under the pink tree all over again. Unanswered questions and emotions left to sink into the ground without anyone to nurture them. He _had_ to know if his friend would show. 

He had to know because he missed Kokichi, it was as simple as that. 

As simple, and as complicated as that.)

\---

The blue-haired girl slipped through the alleyways, eventually arriving at an abandoned factory. It was the sort you saw in horror movies with busted windows and cobwebs, rotting plants around the perimeter that smelled like mildew. Pieces of glass crunched under her shoes as she walked up to one of the doors, pulling out a key and making quick work of unlocking it. 

The inside was anything but abandoned. It was cluttered with furniture and old TVs, board games and record players. The walls were painted bright colors, various murals scattered with no specific organization as if each painted on a whim. The back of the door the girl walked through was a neon green with cute frogs and lilypads on it. 

The factory was anything but abandoned, every corner vibrant and filled with life. 

The girl hummed as she climbed up the nearby staircase, knocking on the first door at the top. Despite the obvious voices coming from inside, no one answered. 

“It’s rude to ignore people, ya know,” she said with a raised voice, pushing open the door as the few DICE members inside turned to greet her.

“My darling dear,” a pink-haired someone called with a sing-song voice. They crawled across the floor to wrap their arms around her legs, looking up at her wide eyes even as hair obscured most of their vision. “Why oh why did you have to keep me waiting so long?”

“Cut it out Clo,” she grumbled, shaking her legs to get them off. 

Clover let go with a huff, crawling back to their previous spot to resume the game of Rummy they were engaged in. 

Their opponent waved with his free hand, the other holding a carefully splayed out group of playing cards. “Hi, King. How’d it go?”

She shrugged, digging her hand through her shirt pocket to pull out a wad of money before tossing it onto the floor between the pair. Despite the intrusion messing up their carefully placed sets of cards, Clover scrambled for it without complaint. They laid flat on their stomach as they flipped through the bills and counted under their breath. 

King walked over to the third person in the room, a short boy with purple hair scribbling on a whiteboard. 

He was writing in a language no one but the people in the building would understand, something the group had created in High School if only for the fun of it. It was a necessity now, and they all knew it by heart. Her eyes scanned the newly written notes- a vandalization scheme for the local government buildings. 

It was elaborate and funny and awful and everything DICE loved. 

She flicked him on the shoulder. “Aye boss. I have news.”

He turned around, the purple marker still in his hand. He considered lunging for her face with it to get back for the flick, but decided against it. King typically didn’t bring things up unless they were important, so he gave her ‘news’ the benefit of the doubt.

“It better be good to interrupt my genius,” he said with a sigh, pressing the cap back onto the marker with a loud pop.

She shrugged. “I figured that’s up for you to decide.”

Ok, he was really regretting not going at it with the purple now. 

She sat on the arm of the chair behind her and stretched out her legs. “Some weirdo guy followed me into the back room, said he knew my uniform was from DICE and shit.” She fiddled with her scarf as if suddenly self-conscious about it. “I denied it, cause why the fuck wouldn’t I, but then he said he wanted to see his friend _Kokichi_ and I was like-”

“ _What_?” The person in question interrupted, chewing on the inside of his cheek. This could be _bad_. People knew him as Joker, or boss, or that weird kid with the cult- but no one knew his real name. Not anymore. 

In a few seconds, he deduced that the visitor was either an undercover cop or someone from High School.

He didn’t know which was worse. 

“Yeah. He told me to pass on a message before I got him to scram, so.” She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Your long lost lover Shuichi wants you to know that he misses you dearly and if you feel the same after all these years _please_ -”

“King,” he growled. “For once in your goddamn life-”

“Okay, okay,” she mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Shuichi, apparently, wants you to know that he asked for you and he’ll be at the bar the same time tomorrow if you want to meet.” She shrugged. “The same time being, like, 12 AM.” 

Kokichi tossed the purple marker from hand to hand, his eyes focused on seemingly nothing. He sneered. “That guy's got a lotta nerve,” he said, voice cracking on the last word. He cleared his throat. “I’ll take your shift tomorrow so I can deal with him.”

King tilted her head to the side curiously, watching the marker continue to fly through the air over and over between his palms as if it were an innate reflex. She grabbed it in the middle of a toss and set it back on the whiteboard while Kokichi glared at her in betrayal. “You’re doing a pretty shitty job of pretending you don’t care,” she said with a snicker. “But whatever, the earlier shift is easier so that’s fine.” 

“Get the fuck out,” Kokichi grumbled, slumping into the nearest chair with anger burning in his eyes. 

She turned from where she was already walking towards the exit, a small smile on her lips. “Just what I was doing, boss.” 

She saluted him and waved goodbye to the other two members before exiting.

“You too,” Kokichi said, gesturing at the pair playing cards.

“Aw c’mon, we didn’t do shit!” Clover whined, dropping his head onto the floor. 

The other boy started gathering up the cards, shuffling them quickly before returning them to their box. “He’s obviously going through something dude, chill out.”

“I am _not_ going through something!” Kokichi hissed as he shot up. 

He took a deep breath, seemingly composed again, before kicking the whiteboard. It shuttered ominously, too close to breaking for comfort. Kokichi frowned. “Like I said, _not_ going through something.”

Clover hummed in mock agreement. 

Kokichi pointed at the door. “Out!” 

The two members scrambled to their feet, muttering apologies as they tripped over each other running towards the exit. After the door closed behind them, Kokichi walked over to lock it before slumping to the floor himself. He grabbed a card on the ground that they had forgotten and held it between two fingers. 

He sighed. “What an idiot.” 


End file.
